


Under the Mask of Dreams

by MaggieMaybe160



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Acceptance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ballroom Dancing, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Dreams vs. Reality, Fireworks, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Masks, Profound Bond Gift Exchange, Rescue Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:07:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21521920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaggieMaybe160/pseuds/MaggieMaybe160
Summary: Dean arrives at the masked ball of his dreams: rock music, acceptance of all kinds, and Cas is there. Is it too good to be true?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 74
Collections: Profound Bond Gift Exchange: Masquerade, The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	Under the Mask of Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [waywarded](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywarded/gifts).



Dean steps out of the Impala and looks up at the mansion before him. Every window is glittering, the entrance open and bright, welcoming. As he walks up the steps, he fits a black masquerade mask to his face and ties it with the black ribbon. 

Inside, every room is filled with masked beauties. People in tuxedos and ballgowns mingle, eat, and dance. Skirts twirl on the dance floor as they are spun. Rock music flows through every room and every person. Laughter, conversation, and flirtations add to the music. Everyone is anonymous, protected.

Dean makes his way through the strangers, making his way toward the ballroom. His eyes search the crowds, but he doesn’t find what he’s looking for. He stands off to the side, watching as the couples gracefully waltz and tango to the classic rock. Two women in full ballgowns take turns dipping and twirling the other, stealing kisses and dancing cheek to cheek. A man in a green mask lifts another in a white lace mask in an elegant movement, their eyes locked together, nothing but trust between them. A woman with her lips painted in gold dips a man low, those lips grazing his before lifting him back up and resuming with her leading him. Right next to them a man with a top hat and a woman with a feathered mask laugh as they miss a step before falling right back into the correct pattern. There are all kinds. Everyone is allowed. Everyone is safe. Everyone is joyous. 

Dean’s gaze drifts up from the masses and finds an angel at the top of the Cinderella staircase. He’s dressed in a black tuxedo with a dark blue tie. The tie matches the mask. Curling over the top are raven-black feathers. Dusting his jaw is dark stubble. His hair is the same dark brown, almost black, and it’s wild. He could have just stepped out of a tornado. Dean’s heart stutters. Cas. 

He watches, his mouth dry, as Cas descends and walks through the dancefloor, people twirling around him. He’s untouchable. It’s like watching an action film where the hero walks through a room, the things around them exploding under gunfire while they remain unscathed and undisturbed. 

Cas reaches Dean and stoops into a bow before taking Dean’s hand and pressing a kiss into his knuckles. “Hello, Dean,” Cas whispers. 

When Cas straightens, he keeps Dean’s hand in his. He takes a step backward and Dean takes a step forward. They are swept into the dancing mass. Cas pulls Dean tight against him and they stand, their hands clasped, arms poised, noses touching, breath mingling. 

“I can’t dance,” Dean admits. He feels breathless this close to his angel. 

“Follow my lead,” Cas says, his sapphire eyes sparkling. Dean is swept up, the other dancers melting into the background as his feet keep pace with Cas’ practiced steps. 

“How did you know it was me?” Dean asks. 

“I would know you from across any room. I would know you from galaxies away. You have me captivated, Dean. No mask will change that.” Dean can feel Cas’ heart beating against his. He swallows hard. “How did you know it was me?” Cas asks back, his hand tightening on Dean’s. 

“How could I not know it was you?” 

“Trust me and relax,” Cas says. Dean nods once and Cas dips him low. No other beings on the planet exist. The world is just Cas and his hand on Dean’s lower back. His eyes are intense and refuse to look away from Dean’s. 

“Cas,” Dean breathes. When Cas brings Dean back up, they don’t continue dancing. They stand still in the middle of the ballroom, chest to chest. Dean takes his hand from Cas’ shoulder and cups his jaw gently before leaning in. Their lips press together, Cas immediately kissing back. They drop each other’s hands as they wrap themselves up in the other’s arms. 

“Wake up,” Cas whispers urgently into Dean’s mouth. “Dean, wake up.”

* * *

Dean wakes up, drenched in a cold sweat and restrained. He pants, feeling desperately out of breath as he looks around to try to figure out where he is. The room is dark and silent. 

“Fuck.” Dean pulls at his restraints, but they’re too tight and he feels weak. 

“Really, Winchester?” a voice comes from behind him. “You dream of Castiel’s sweet embrace? How… pathetic.” 

“Yeah well, shows over,” Dean snarls despite not exactly being in any position to appear threatening. 

“Not quite,” the voice says, dripping with amusement. “He will never love you, you know? Sad, really.” 

Dean clenches his jaw and twists to try to find the speaker. He can still feel Cas’ lips on his. _Is Cas here too?_ Dean panics. 

“Hush,” the voice says. “Come now. I’m Mister Sandman. Bring me a dream.” 

* * *

Dean opens his eyes. The music from downstairs is muffled by the closed door. He sits up on the plush couch and looks around at the bookshelves. He gets up and walks over to the wall where a mirror hangs as a decoration. The edges are golden and gleaming. He looks into the mirror and finds his mask is still on and nothing seems amiss. 

How did he get here? Dean opens the door and walks out into the hallway. There are fewer people upstairs than down. A couple in the corner are pressed against a wall, their faces glued together. A group of three stumble into a bedroom and shut the door quickly as they tear at each other’s clothes. Dean keeps walking. 

Dean is searching, but he doesn’t know what or who for. He’s surrounded by masks and strangers. He hasn’t found it yet. He makes his way to a balcony where he can see the festivities below. The dancing skirts look like blooming flowers, color blossoming all over the dance floor. He keeps walking until he’s made it to another overlook. The dining room is bustling below with servents, also in intricate masks, serving apple pie and vanilla ice cream. 

Despite the meal being one of Dean’s favorites, it’s not what he’s looking for. He walks outside onto the top of a staircase that descends into the beautifully lit gardens. There’s a hedge maze with roses adorning the walls. Faerie lights twinkle and stone benches wait. He walks down the staircase slowly, marveling at the view as he does. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says behind him. Dean turns around, his heart no longer searching. 

“Cas,” Dean smiles, stopping on the final step. Cas is still wearing his blue mask with the dark feathers. He takes the stairs two at a time until he meets Dean. 

Their fingers twine together as they look into each other’s familiar and safe eyes. In a crowd of faceless strangers, they find each other. 

“Come with me,” Dean says with a mischievous smile before leading Cas into the maze hand in hand. The music that should fall away behind them as they walk farther into the winding hedges doesn’t, keeping them enveloped in classic rock instead of silence. 

They keep walking, turning this way and that, no particular goal in mind. They have what they want in the palms of their linked hands. 

Around the next corner, Dean and Cas find themselves at another dead end. A bench with two rose planters on either side sits at the not so disappointing end. When Cas turns to walk away from the private corner and continue with their midnight stroll, Dean pulls him back with an abrupt tug. Cas spins on his heel and doesn’t bother stopping himself when he ends up face to face with Dean. 

Chests tight, hearts colliding, and breath mingling, they stand in intense silence as their eyes connect in the dim mood lighting. Dean runs his hand down Cas’ cheek before letting his thumb trail over the soft lips that have him mesmerized. 

“I want to see you without the mask,” Cas manages, his voice raw and his lower lip still caught on Dean’s thumb. 

Dean reaches up to his own face and pulls the mask off, dropping it at his feet. “Now you,” he breathes. He watches as Cas carefully unties the ribbon behind his head and pulls the dark blue from his face. His mask clatters onto Dean’s, but neither looks down at the noise. 

Cas runs his fingers gently over Dean’s cheeks, barely touching the sprinkle of freckles that adorn his skin. Dean tries not to blush and feels himself failing, his cheeks growing hot. 

“You look amazing tonight,” Cas says. “Not to say you don’t look great all the time. Just tonight is… This isn’t coming out right. You look wonderful all of the time and tonight you are radiant.”

“Not bad yourself, angel,” Dean breathes, his usual jocular tone missing. 

Cas’ kisses him, their lips crashing together in their private corner of the maze. They fit together like puzzle pieces, pressed together from their hips to their chests. Dean’s hands tangle into Cas’ hair, attempting to pull him closer, though if they were any closer, they would be one. 

Cas’ hands firmly on his hips, keeping them pressed tightly together as Dean pushes Cas up against the hedge wall. 

Laughter nearby makes Dean’s heart leap into his throat. Dean breaks the kiss to look around frantically.

“Look at me,” Cas says and Dean does. “Wake up. I’ll wait.” 

“What?” Dean grips Cas harder.

“Wake up, Dean,” Cas whispers, kissing Dean again. 

* * *

Dean’s eyes flutter open. The darkness around him seems blurry, even with nothing to see. He doesn’t have the energy to look around and at this point, he doesn’t care. He nudges his wrist against the restraint just to see if it’s still there. It’s not so his hand falls from the armrest into his lap. He doesn’t move. 

“Addicting, isn’t it?” the voice of Mister Sandman drips. Dean doesn’t answer. “I love dreams. I can’t dream, of course. I can’t sleep. I just find the best dreams and press play. I know it’s draining. I can’t help it. A human hunter dreaming and pining after his angel best friend is just too good. It’s comfort food.” 

“Cas?” Dean’s voice comes out on a weak breath. 

“He isn’t here, darling. You’ll see him in your dreams. Always in your dreams. It’ll be over soon, Dean.” 

“Promise?” Dean sighs, his eyes fluttering closed again. 

“Sweet dreams,” the voice croons. 

* * *

Dean opens his eyes. Above him are the stars glittering in the dark. He turns his head to the side to find Cas. His cheeks are flushed and he’s breathing hard. Their fingers are twined together between them. Underneath the breathless couple are all of their clothes. 

“Should we get dressed before someone happens to cross this path?” Cas asks. His hair is crazier than before. Dean loves it. He props himself up on one elbow to take Cas in one last time. Dean trails his finger down the planes of Cas’ smooth chest and abs as he drinks him in. Cas does the same, his hand against Dean’s chest making his heart beat faster.

“Do we have to?” Dean groans. Cas catches his hand and presses a kiss into his palm before sitting up and picking through the clothes to find which pieces belong to him. “Guess so,” Dean answers his own question, joining Cas in the clothing search. 

After tugging on and buttoning up each piece of his tux, Dean picks up his mask and secures it back to his face, carefully tying the bow behind his head. He watches as Cas ties his tie on backward. He doesn’t correct him. 

“Let’s go back,” Cas says as he shrugs his coat on. 

“One last thing.” Dean grins as he pulls Cas back to him for a lingering kiss. Fireworks explode. Literally. The sky fills with color and crackles, breaking their kiss but not their embrace as they peer up at the fantastical show. 

Dean looks back down from the sky to Cas’ face, the colors from the sky splashing across his skin in bursts. He can’t remember being as happy as he is in this moment. 

“It’s beautiful,” Cas says, awe in his usual deep voice.

“Yeah, it is,” Dean says without looking away from him, because Cas is the only thing worth looking at right now. Cas turns his face back to Dean and there they stay, watching the colors dance across each other’s faces and masks. 

When the show ends, they link their hands and wander through the maze, finding their way back to the mansion with ease. 

“Where are you taking me?” Dean asks as Cas leads him back into the mansion. 

“You haven’t eaten all night.” It’s true, so Dean doesn’t argue when he’s led to the massive dining room. Two servants pull chairs out for Dean and Cas to sit beside each other. Everyone else is a friendly stranger, their lips visible as they smile and chat. 

The table is filled with candles, flowers, and empty silver plates. A servant comes back to Dean with an ornate chalice filled with beer. 

“Cheers,” Dean grins, accepting it and taking a sip. “Whose party is this?” 

“You don’t already know?” Cas asks. Dean shakes his head as he swallows another sip. “Mr. S,” Cas supplies.

“Well, he knows how to throw one hell of a party,” Dean laughs. 

“Dinner is served,” someone announces and every servant steps forward at once, unveiling everyone’s meals in unison like Dean had only ever seen happen on TV. Placed on the silver platter before Dean is a bacon cheeseburger with thick-cut fries and ketchup. 

“Is ketchup a vegetable?” Cas asks as Dean dips a fry into it. 

“Hell yes,” Dean answers without hesitation. 

When he finishes his burger, Cas switches their plates without a word. Dean doesn’t remember when it became something they did, but he loves it. He loves everything that belongs to just him and his angel.

“Do you know anyone else here?” Dean asks as the plates are taken away. 

“Not in the same meaning you have,” Cas says, playing with Dean’s hand idly under the table. “Everyone here is free to love. To love themselves, each other… They’re free to be themselves completely and abandon their fears. I know them because I know their hearts, but I don’t know them as you know other humans.” 

“Is that what this place is for?” Dean looks around the table. The room is filled with the gleeful murmurs of quiet conversation. There’s roaring laughter from somewhere outside the dining room. Couples lean into each other. They might not be strangers to each other, or they very well could be, but they’re free and happy. 

“We’re allowed to be here,” Dean whispers. “An angel and a human.” 

“Yes, sweetie pie,” Cas says with the smallest smile before pressing a kiss to Dean’s cheek. “We’re allowed to be _together_ here. Human and angel.” 

“Then I never want to leave,” Dean says, kissing Cas gently. 

“Then don’t,” Cas breathes. 

After dessert, Dean leads Cas upstairs to wander and explore. They walk through the decorated hallways, pointing out oil paintings and tapestries. Their arms swing between them as they reminisce about their lives together. 

They stop to look over a railing. Three floors down, the ballroom is still lively with music and dancing. As Dean looks down on the swirling colors, he suddenly feels tired, the three-story height feeling more like thirty. 

“I need to lie down,” Dean says, stepping away from the railing. 

“Okay,” Cas leads him to a room with a large plush bed. Dean climbs onto the bed with Cas and flops onto his back, staring up. Cas props himself up on an elbow beside Dean so he can look down into his face. 

“Will you stay?” Cas asks softly as he traces Dean’s jaw with the tip of his finger. “Dean?”

* * *

“Dean!” Cas yells. Dean’s head falls to the side as he tries to turn toward his voice. 

“I’ll stay,” Dean promises the masked Cas in his dreams. 

“No, no, no. No, Dean.” Dream Cas’ hand strokes the side of Dean’s face affectionately as the real Cas, the panicking Cas feels how cold Dean’s skin is by pressing his hand to Dean’s forehead and cheek. “Open your eyes, Dean. I’m here. Dean, wake up.” 

“Cas,” Dean breathes. He’s so tired and everything takes too much effort. Breathing is too much effort. 

“Dean, I’m here. Just open your eyes,” Cas’ voice urges.

“My eyes are as open as they’ll ever be.” Dean forces his eyes open but all he can see is the blue mask around the sparkling blue eyes as the Cas from his dreams kisses his fingertips gently. “I should have already told you how much I love you. I should tell you every day. I wanted to tell you every day.”

Dean pulls in a shaky breath as Cas’ stops. “My blue-eyed angel,” Dean manages with a weak smile. His eyes close and he thinks he hears someone yell. The world quakes and Dean is eternally falling. Mister Sandman brings him a dream. 

* * *

Dean groans as he wakes up. The fog clears from his head as he blinks away sleep. Instead of his own room, he finds himself in the bunker’s infirmary. 

“Dean?” 

He turns his head at the high anxiety in Cas’ voice. He sits at the edge of his seat beside Dean’s bed. He looks like a human who hasn’t slept in days. He looks disheveled even though not a thing is out of place. His eyes search Dean’s frantically, exhaustion and intense worry fighting to take over.

“Heya, Cas,” Dean rasps. Cas holds up a cup of water with a straw and Dean gladly sips. It feels like he hasn’t had any in days, his throat a desert. 

“Not too much,” Cas says, taking the cup away as Dean starts to attempt to chug down the water. “You haven’t had anything but IV fluids for three days.” 

“I had the weirdest dream,” Dean half laughs, still exhausted but wanting to be awake. Cas only looks at him with deep concern, his lips pressed tight and his blue eyes wide. “I was out on a case,” Dean says through a yawn, “with Sammy. You might have been there too now that I think about it. I can’t even get away from working in my dreams. Whatever. So you know that song, _Mister Sandman_?”

Cas doesn’t answer. 

“Anyway, the monster of the week was Mister Sandman. In my sleep, he stole me away to a weird place. He was feeding off of dreams, but it killed the person he fed from. That’s why we were there in the first place, I guess. I don’t really remember.” 

“That wasn’t a dream, Dean,” Cas finally says. “You went missing and we couldn’t find you until it was almost too late.”

“Wait, did you say three days?” Dean shakes his head, rewinding the conversation. Cas nods.

“I had to get you out of there. Do you remember anything about when Sam and I came to kill the Sandman?” 

“No. I just remember the dreams.” Dean’s mouth goes dry again as he remembers the masked ball, Cas’ hand in his, colorful light splashing across his face, kisses in the moonlight, kisses in full view of other people, kisses from Cas’ lips. 

“You don’t remember talking to me before I had to pick you up and bring you here?” 

Dean shakes his head. He must be broken. He wants to go back and find the Sandman, begging for his dreams back. 

“You told me you loved me,” Cas whispers, sinking into his chair. 

Dean’s heart comes to a shrieking halt in his chest. 

“You… told me you loved me and then you… I thought you died.” Cas takes a shaky breath, bringing his eyes back up to meet Dean’s. “You were dreaming.” 

“I…” Dean searches the angel’s face. He’s not sure what he wants to find. “I meant it, Cas. Every word.”

Cas opens his mouth to say something but closes it. Dean reaches out and takes his hand, gripping tightly as he holds Cas’ gaze. 

“I dreamed about this wonderful place. It was a masquerade ball. I walked in and I was looking for you. We danced how I’ll never be able to dance in real life. It was smooth and perfect and we kissed,” Dean’s heart lodges in his throat. Part of him is telling him to stop talking, another to keep going and never stop. “We walked through a maze at midnight holding hands. We kissed and made love and watched a fireworks show. I finally got to be with the one person I’ve—”

Cas cuts Dean off with a kiss. It’s better than he dreamed. The permanently chapped lips are soft cushions on his. Urgency and desire spark between them as Dean’s arms lift to pull Cas closer, always closer. 

“I love you,” Cas groans against Dean’s lips. 

“My blue-eyed angel,” Dean answers, relieved to finally be awake. 


End file.
